In Sickness and in Health
by antomec
Summary: When Lucy falls sick, it's up to Bickslow to care of her. And the methods he uses is not entirely orthodox. BixLu, oneshot, rated T for swearing. Beware of fluff. Birthday fic for @apriiil.


**_Here, have fluff. In loads. Y'all better have some money saved up to pay the dentist's bills._**

* * *

Bickslow flopped onto the bed. "I just want to lay here forever, I feel so crappy."

Lucy looked at him incredulously. "Shut the fuck up, you aren't the one with the flu."

"Alright, fine. We can feel crappy together," he answered, pulling Lucy closer and snuggling up to her.

"Bix, stop, you're going to get sick because of me."

Bickslow tried ignoring her. But it was pretty hard when she gave him a fucking wet-willy. "Did you just-?" he asked in shock, one hand clasping his ear.

"Give you a wet-willy? Yes, I did, because you _wouldn't get up_." She sat up in bed and smirked at him in victory. "I haven't slept in ages, Bix. So get off already."

Bickslow looked at her, affronted. "You can't banish me, this is my bed too."

"Not while I'm sick, so get out," she said decisively, and pushed him unceremoniously to the floor. "Get out already," she whined.

"Ooh, someone's salty today," Bickslow remarked, sticking his tongue out.

"What do I have to do to kick you out, short of me actually getting out of bed?"

Bickslow pouted, but he still left the apartment. "That's alright, I'll be sweet to counter your salt." He frowned at himself. "That was too cheesy, wasn't it?"

The corners of Lucy's mouth pulled up a little. Bickslow grinned wider at the sight, and opened the door. "Get better soon, Cosplayer," he said, blowing her a kiss. Lucy's giggles filtered through as he slowly pulled the door shut.

* * *

Lucy woke up to the door crashing open. Her hand shot to her keys on the cabinet beside her, but she faltered when she registered Bix's voice. "Honey, I'm home!"

"Bickslow, I'm sick!" she yelled back. "I've told you not to wake me up like that a hundred times," she added as she saw him walk through her bedroom door, gently opening the door with his back while holding a tray in his hands. "That better be soup for me," Lucy snarked.

"Would you ever expect anything less of me?" Bickslow answered, setting the tray down on Lucy's lap. He pushed a spoon into her palm and sat down next to her. "Eat it."

Lucy didn't needed to be told twice. Despite the fact that she still felt sticky from all the sweat and that she probably needed to brush her teeth, she finished the little bowl in less than a minute. Bickslow whistled lowly. "Looks like someone was hungry."

Lucy grinned at him, her stomach full and her body demanding another nap. Almost as though as he had read her mind, he pushed her shoulders down, and hefted the tray off the bed. "Sleep," he ordered.

And sleep heeded his words as she drifted off peacefully.

* * *

When Lucy woke up, she glanced at the clock to know how long she'd passed out. She had only started calculating when Bickslow entered the room, wearing his pajamas. He even had his fluffy slippers on, and he reserved those for special occasions.

"I vote for today to be pajama party day, " he announced.

So _that's_ the special occasion.

He pulled Lucy up from the bed, and set her gently on her feet. He made a show of sniffing her, and declared, "Miss Stinky-pants, you need a bath. And luckily, there's a tub filled with hot water and clothes left in the bathroom," he added, pushing her along to her bathroom. "Never thought I'd say this, but I liked it better when you were feeling up to complaining."

Lucy swatted at him, but he dodged it cleverly, and gave her a final nudge. "Hurry up, or you'll be late to your own party."

Lucy decided to comply. After all, she _really_ needed a bath.

* * *

When she stepped out later, steam curling around her feet, she felt better than she had in ages. She supposed she'd better thank Bix for everything he did. A sudden shriek suddenly caught her attention and she raced to the living room. She glanced all around in worry, but the only thing that was out of place was Bix on the floor, holding his head with a look of pain.

She looked at him a little more closely, and figured out what had happened. "Bix, don't tell me you actually _slipped_ wearing socks?"

Bickslow pouted at her. "I think I got a concussion. Mind wearing that sexy nurse outfit from last Halloween again?" he asked, pausing once before he sneezed.

Lucy spied one of his fluffy slippers and swiftly picked it up and threw it at him. The bath must have cured her if she was already hurling stuff at her stupid boyfriend.

Bickslow jumped up and pulled her in close. He flung her hand up and clasped it, his other hand making its way to her waist. Lucy's eyes widened when she realised what he was about to do. Maybe the medicine was making her less receptive, but she finally noticed the music in the room.

Bickslow whispered, "Let's dance."

Lucy beamed at him.

When the music started building, Bix started twirling and dipping her, but it was never refined. Bickslow ruined all the grace to it by dancing in his usual clumsy way, adding in new dance moves, and he even did the fucking chicken dance. Lucy laughed the whole time, and she nearly peed herself at the sight of all his antics.

When they had danced to their hearts' content, Bickslow pulled them along to Lucy's bedroom. When he opened the door, Lucy softly gasped. "Bix, how did you manage to do this in the time that I took a bath?"

Bickslow chuckled. "I came prepared," he answered and opened the door wider. Inside, somehow he had hung up tiny twinkly fairy lights that shone a muted yellow over a giant pillow fort. Lucy peered closer and she realised that not all the blankets were hers – some of them she recognised from the days she stayed over at her boyfriend's.

She turned to Bix, and muttered, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he answered gallantly. Suddenly, he swooped down and swept her legs out from underneath her, easily lifting her into his arms. "Wanna enter the fort now?" he asked roguishly.

Lucy laughed, and she supposed that was answer enough as Bickslow walked through the door.

* * *

"Hmm, Lucy," Bickslow muttered. "You're hogging all the blankets."

Lucy tossed under the covers, blinking her eyes open blearily. It's mid-October, but somehow being under the covers seemed stuffy, and weirdly warm. She wrote it down to sharing the bed with Bix, but it still irked her for some reason.

Bix shivered and it caught her attention. A thought crossed her mind and she gingerly put her hand across his forehead. She quickly snatched her palm away, because he was _burning up_.

Bix stirred underneath her hand, and she didn't think twice before smacking him on the head. "I told you that you'd get sick if you cuddled with me!"

"Who's sick?" he mumbled. He paused a second to collect his bearings – and then he started sneezing. Violently.

"For fuck's sake," Lucy exclaimed, flipping over to grab the box of tissues on her nightstand. "Here, here, wipe yourself." She shoved the box into his hands.

After he blew his nose, he asked Lucy quietly, "Would you mind making me some soup?"

"No, 'cause I'm still sick."

Bix grunted, and Lucy felt an arm curl around her middle and pull her closer. "Then we'll be sick together."

Lucy snorted, but this was some sort of a stalemate, she supposed.

Besides, a sick Bickslow was something rare and she fully intended to exploit this moment.

* * *

 _ **Reviews are extremely appreciated!**_


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